Black to the Future
by Iba
Summary: Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.
1. Blackychan

1.

Some days you just woke up and knew it was going to be an alright day. For Marshal there were a lot of ways that could make him feel like it was going to be an alright day like after an intense workout the previous day and sleeping like a log straight to the morning.

On this particular morning, he knew it was going to be a great day. He didn't awaken to the piercing gaze of Grimsley as that creepy fuck watched him sleep from his perch upside-down, outside Marshal's bedroom window. Marshal took this as a rare sign of an oncoming day of normality and decided he would begin by celebrating with the best kind of meal: protein and Apple Jacks.

Down in the depths of the Elite Four kitchen was a table filled with the food of champions. But, since the reigning champion of Unova was currently a vagabond scouring the countryside, the fruits and shit were rotten and disgusting by the wayside, while Marshal poured a continuous stream of milk into a bowl of Apple Jacks. During this, he chewed into some long forgotten beef jerky.

Good eatens.

As he chugged away at the remaining puddle of milk at the bottom of the bowl, a voice uncomfortably close to Marshal whispered something into his ear.

Marshal accidentally crushed the bowl into a tiny, billion pieces after hearing what was ravishing his eardrums. Marshal was usually a gentle creature with a heart of golden steak, but this sudden sweet nothings caught him off guard.

What he heard was, "Let's shoot hoops."

After Marshal composed himself, he turned his head and saw it was his Jewish friend, Grimsley. This was quite a shock because Grimsley never, ever wanted to play basketball because he was always busy sitting on his delicate sofa, petting pussies, while reading Shakespeare. Hearing him make this suggestion so huskily made the butterflies in Marshal's stomach flutter around.

"W-WHY SHOOT HOOPS?" Marshal gasped out in his manly voice, which had Grimsley stick a finger in his own ear to make sure he wasn't deaf. He pulled out a wad of wax with some blood.

"Did you forget, Bananabrows?" Grimsley smirked, although quite frankly he was a bit concerned. Whether it was because of his friend or his ear, we may never know. "It's your Birthday."

It wasn't, actually, but Grimsley wanted to fuck with Marshal. It was working because Marshal dashed out of the kitchen. He entered the bathroom, scrubbing his pearly-whites over the sink with some sweet, tender Colgate.

As he brushed, Marshal took the liberty of pondering the meaning of life. Why was Grimsley there? Why was he always watching him? Why did he bring up the sacred phrase of the shooting of the hoops?

How did he even meet him?

His mouth erupted a giant wad of spit, and with that, he was ready to face the world.

The end.


	2. Black Power

2.

When he walked down the hallway, Marshal saw Grimsley reading a book. Marshal asked him about shooting hoops, and apparently Grimsley didn't care anymore.

Marshal felt scandalized about this. In fact, he yanked Grimsley by the scarf and threatened him with, "WE SHOOT HOOPS!"

He also smacked him lightly behind the head, but that happened to have Grimsley's hair shoot off. Reality was his hair was really… a Murkrow.

Grimsley squawked in embarrassment and gave Marshal a bald glare before scrambling after the offended black bird. Marshal refused to allow his Jewish friend to slither off, however, and charged after the man in a blaze of manly glory. It was for the shooting of the hoops.

Just as Grimsley had the startled crow pokemon cornered behind a trashcan, he was shot forward by the force of Marshal's Take Down attack and straight into the top of the trash can. It crashed to the side and rolled a few feet stopping just before a long set of stairs in the darkest and most depraved areas of the Pokemon HQ. Marshal straightened from his position on the floor and stalked over to Grimsley and pleasantly chucked the can down the flight of stairs.

Marshal followed at a relaxed pace as the can ricocheted down into the depths of the HQ, only to be heard from a steadily growing distance. Once the can reached the end of its journey it gave one last crash and a loud moan of agony that followed.

Marshal took the remainder of the time to reach the end of the stairs realizing that today was not, in fact, his birthday.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, utterly distraught. So distraught, in fact, that his face remained in its calm expression yet his banana brows gave the deepest of frowns.

His face was messed up for a full ten hours until he and his now handicapped friend made it to the basketball court.


	3. Poo Pee

3.

They had a bathtub filled with balls. But not just any kind of balls. Basketballs. The balls themselves were not only big and bouncy, but they had a special kind of magic to them. A magic Grimsley nor Marshal knew about. The only person who knew about these sacred balls was Caitlain because… she cursed them all. She prepared these balls for this special day. They had a bathtub filled with balls.

Marshal did not waste any time, man. He took a ball and shot it in the hoop. He then took another ball and shot it in the hoop. Then he took another ball and shot it in the hoop. Wait, no, that was Grimsley's head.

"RUH-OH!" Marshal gasap'd as Grimsley screamed for his dear and bald life. He was literally upside-down within the hoop. Marshal tried to help the kindred spirit by taking another two balls and chucking it at Grimsley's body and head.

Grimsley upchucked the Swanna he had for dinner, not to mention some blood, all over the court before he slid down the hoop at last. He didn't make it to the floor to walk the dinosaur, though. He just suddenly went poof.

"RUH-OH!" Marshal smacked his hands to his face as he let out a noise that reflected the terror he felt within. And with that, the next logical idea he could come up with was to step back a few feet and make a dash towards to hoop. Marshal jumped down the hoop as if he was flippin' Mario goin' down a pipe and found himself not the court, but on Grimsley's body sprawled out on concrete.

What was also on this concrete were many black people hustling about. The city itself was black. Even the sky was black. All of it were black like Grimsley's soul.

After several minutes of Grimsley and Marshal's unwritten bullshit adventures, they got off their lazy asses and decided it was best to explore. Everyone was giving Grimsley a grim look either because he stuck out like an awkward boner what with his giant, white nose or because he looked like he got tackled by a Bouffalant.

"Why did you do that," Grimsley finally spoke. "Why did you do that to me."

"Today is not my birthday."

Grimsley stomped his lady foot. "MARSHAL, I KNOW IT'S NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY. WHY DID YOU THROW ME DOWN THE STAIRS AND IN A HOOP? AND WHY DID YOU THROW BASKETBALLS AT ME? DO YOU NOT APPRECIATE EVERYTHING I'VE DONE FOR YOU?" Fyi, he did shit for Marshal.

There was a pause. Then Marshal wisely pointed out that, "Today is not my birthday."

Grimsley got so infuriated that he plopped his tiny ass on a black bench to calm himself before bringing up, "Where are we, anyway."


	4. Renball Z

4.

They were at Black City.

When Marshal and Grimsley entered a building, voices were whispering to each other until a man came up to Grimsley, while rolling up a sleeve, and said, "Hey, come over here so I can kick your ass." Grimsley shrieked and did so again when Marshal picked up his skinny ass and galloped out of there. They ended up in an empty alley.

"What was that about?" Grimsley questioned after Marshal place him down. "Don't they know we're part of the Elite 4?"

"Shoot hoops," Marshal replied.

Grimsley glared at him and smacked him at the shoulder. That barely had any effect. "We're not shooting hoops, you moron!"

"NO, SHOOT HOOPS!" Marshal roared back so powerfully that Grimsley's long ass scarf slapped the young Jewish man in the face.

"Marshal's right," a young voice came out. Marshal and Grimsley looked around to see where that came from until a lid from a nearby garbage can lifted up.

It was Black.

"Why are you hiding in there?" Grimsley asked, feeling so disgusted at the fact there was a person chillin' in a trashcan that he wished he was in a bathtub filled with balls. He wished the rough and hard balls caressed his body. It would be ballsy.

"Shh, I'm hiding. I stole this from Ikea. I also have pillows in here, so it's pretty comfy," Black echoed inside. "Dude, you should find a place to hide quick or else you're going get lynched. That or find a basketball hoop quickly-and take me with you!"

"What?" was all Grimsley sputtered. He noticed that Marshal was panting and growling angrily like a dog. Black heard this and found himself coming out of the trashcan and petting Marshal. The grown man found great comfort to this as he happily tapped his foot. Grimsley watched this and just went, "What."

"Hey, I'm a trainer!" Black said. "I've studied all about you Elite 4. Anyway, we're apparently in the past when all the blacks got segregated here. In order to go back to the present, we have to jump into a basketball hoop, which is easier said than done."

Before Grimsley could reply, a voice shouted out, "There they are!" They saw that a herd of black people spotted them and were, in fact, chasing the sons of bitches.

Black cursed before Marshal scooped him and Grimsley up and ran out of there. As they were being escorted, Black explained how the basketball hoops in Black City were sacred. They were being hunted for a good fifteen minutes before a fence ended their journey.

Upon further inspection, the people just noticed Marshal due to the fact earlier they were distracted by Grimsley's giant nose. Someone interrogated at him, "Why are you with the white men?"

"S-SHOOT… HOOPS?" Marshal went. Soon enough, everyone gasped and went on their knees. To them, he has apparently spoken a sacred passage. Yes, in fact, they now knew him as… Renball Z.


	5. Purry

5.

Renball Z sat on a throne, which was made up of Grimsley and Black as they were forced to be on their hands and knees, letting Renball Z's tender buttocks rub against their aching backs. Black City's inhabitants nourished their king as this happened. They gave him everything that he wanted, from Gatorade to beef jerky. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, and Renball Z had tacos for breakfast. Yet, for Black, who was firmly caught beneath Renball Z's twin butt cheeks, it was the very worst of times. Yes, this was true masculinity.

All this nourishment changed Renball Z's friendship with Black and Grimsley. A reason being was there were times when Black and Grimley's backs vibrated when Renball Z let out a fat nasty trash of a fart. The smell radiated the room for five hours straight until it disappeared, but this gave Renball Z another excellent opportunity to blast out more toots for the world.

Black eventually collapsed from the combination of weight and gas, causing Renball Z to topple backwards and land on the floor in an uninspiring heap. The collected audience gasped and few "DAMN"s floated out from the crowd. Black's weak little boy body caused both Black and Grimsley to get thrown in jail for failing to keep Black City's king lifted.

Renball Z realized the error of his ways, so one night, while his faithful servants were told to go hunt for some Deerling, he pussyfooted to his locked up and smelly comrades to get them out. They were his true friends, after all. Well, not really. He didn't know shit about Black, and Grimsley was an asshole, but they were able to keep up with his brown mists. That's what makes them true tomodachis.

A few servants were carrying the corpse of a Deerling as they caroled "Das Boot." They almost dropped their dinner when they saw their king with the criminals, who in turn saw them. The trio was heading towards the enchanted basketball hoops.

"Ruh-oh," Marshal went, immediately losing his title. He knew right at that moment that his servants have lost all of their respect for their king. His ex-servants prepared to chase them after tossing the dead Pokemon aside they shouted "Criminal!"

Marshal continued to carry the weak Grimsley and Black towards the basketball hoops. The gate, which was usually closed, was already opened, and this was Marshal's doing before he went to rescue his faggots. While he was Renball Z, he learned Black City's secrets such as how to enter the sacred hoop temple.

His pursuers concluded that that was where he was heading, so one of them went to close the gate with a push of a button. While Marshal dashed with all his might, the gates were slowly closing.

Grimsley and Black frantically cheered him on, but it was quite clear that they weren't going to make it. And with this, Marshal took every ounce of dignity and strength he had to chuck the two of his friends fifty-five feet into the temple.

"Bananabrows, what are you doing?" Grimsley shouted. "I know you're better than that!" He will never admit it, but tears were forming in his eyes.

Marshal was bent over with his hands on his knees as he was gasping for breath until he realized that he had a half-full bottle of Gatorade left. He immediately pulled it out of his royal fanny pack and made the most legendary chug one will ever have the chance of seeing. His pursuers almost caught up to him, but he left them all in the dust for now the wind was at his back as he sweated the color orange.

He sprung and made it just in time before the gates could close. During the process, Marshal rammed himself into Grimsley, giving him a concussion.

The people of Black City watched and booed as Black handed a basketball he found to Marshal.

"You deserve to shoot hoops, _Renball Z_," Black said admirably.

Yet Marshal shook his head and pushed the ball away. "No. You shoot hoops."

Every single person gasped. Well, except for Grimsley since he was unconscious.

"But I might not make it!" Black sputtered. "Why would you turn down a perfectly firm ball?"

"If I shoot hoops, then friends shoot hoops," were Marshal's words of wisdom. This, frankly, opened everyone's eyes.

Regardless, Black gulped. He dribbled the ball for what seemed like forever as the thought of an Elite Four member entrusting him with their destiny haunted his mind. This was almost as bad as the time Black was trapped in the ferris wheel with N stripping and declaring that he was the king of Team Plasma. Actually, no, that was worse, and now Black couldn't get that image out of his head.

Black shot the ball.

And it bounced off the rim.

Everyone gasped, and Black quickly dug his head into his hands. Grimsley woke up to question his surroundings until the incoming basketball smashed into his cranium. It bounced off.

And it went into the hoop.

"HOLY SHIT!" Black screamed. It would be certain that he was screaming about his luck, not Grimsley's.

Marshal picked Grimsley up and threw him into the hoop. He went poof. Seeing that this theory worked, he allowed Black to jump in next.

Before Marshal went in the hoop, he turned towards the inhabitants of Black City as a single tear went down his eye.

The trio made it back. Grimsley, Black, and Marshal tumbled out of the hoop and back on the court where there stood Shauntal and Caitlain.

"Hey, assholes, you're back!" Shauntal greeted. "And you brought back the kid!" Caitlain approached Marshal to explain that she cursed the tub of basketballs in order to save Black.

After that was said and done, Grimsley woke up in a chair. He found himself dazed at a table with a birthday cake in front of him, while Marshal, Black, Shauntal, and Caitlain surrounded him.

"W-what's going on?" Grimsley questioned.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Marshal shouted, grabbing a fist filled with cake and smashing it into Grimsley's face.

Grimsley died that day.


	6. The Bear Prince

Epilogue

Grimsley was walking through a pure meadow, laughing at the butterflies flitting around his head when he spied a wanton little bear lying under a tree.

Grimsley skipped over to see the dear thing and was pointy to find that he was hurt! A fag had pierced his jewish little bicep and he whimpered moistly with the pain.

"My juicy little friend," Grimsley said. "Let me help you!" He took out his Leatherman Multi-Purpose tool and pulled out the fag, as wetly as he could. The bear cried out and Grimsley's heart ached, like a magikarp that got ran over by a bike. "You'll be all right," Grimsley whispered. "I'll take care of you. I'll call you Marshal and you can live with me forever!"

Scooping Marshal up in his arms, Grimsley carried him home and made a bed for him beside his own. For seven days and seven nights, Grimsley nursed Marshal, cleaning his bicep and feeding him Baguette-brand bear chow.

On the eighth night, Marshal climbed into bed with Grimsley. He burrowed under the covers and tenderly frolicked Grimsley's pecs. It made Grimsley giggle and he cuddled close to Marshal, stroking his fruity-patooty and singing smoothly to him.

They continued that way for a long time. Every day, Grimsley hurried home so he could curl up with Marshal. It gave him a majestic feeling whenever Marshal frolicked his pecs.

Then one night, Marshal looked up at Grimsley and said, "If you kiss me, I will become a leathery prince."

Grimsley screamed coaxingly, he was so surprised. How could a bear talk? He must have dropped off and dreamed it.

"You're not dreaming," Marshal said. "Kiss me."

"Don't tell anyone I screamed like that," Grimsley said and kissed Marshal on his fruity-patooty. The air swirled and suddenly, there stood a leathery prince! With a crown and everything!

"I'm Prince Marshal," he said. "I was cursed. It's a long story."

"Is it really you?" Grimsley said.

"See?" Marshal said and showed Grimsley the scar from the fag on his bicep. Then he kissed Grimsley and they tumbled behind the door and did a lot of very balling things, some of them involving a masculine balls.

"I love you," Marshal said when they were done. Grimsley clasped him close and they lived together happily ever after on all the prince treasure Marshal had stashed away.

And if Marshal didn't know about Grimsley's visits to the bear sanctuary, well, it wouldn't hurt him.


End file.
